“There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.” - Maya Angelou, I know Why the Caged Bird Sings

Tuesday, September 20, 2016

For one night only

Margo looked Rollin’ in the eyes. They were the brightest of eyes with the reddest irises. It was a rather ghoulish chicken. Rollin’ wore royal blue collar with a bright, shiny diamond ring attached to it. No name or address.Margo began feeling dizzy. Maybe it was just one of those days she thought. Margo began involuntarily pacing the house. She was out of control.

Margo quickly began wondering what death could feel like. She liked the feeling. Rollin's eyes reminded her of that feeling. She began walking out of the apartment building and towards the streets. Anita stayed and Rollin' followed.

Up ahead stood a man in stilts, wearing vertical black and white stripes and making crowing sounds. She walked toward the man and three black tents appeared. Torches surrounded the tents, a full moon was out, and it was pitch dark outside. It smelled like cigars everywhere.

This reminded Margo of being a little girl and sitting in her papa's lap as he smoked and read the morning paper. She was home. In every direction, people wore stilts and had on animal costumes. There were no animals there, but rather people dressed up as them. In the back corner, there sat a man at a booth with a pen and black notebook searching the room and writing.

"Cocka" Margo spat out. She put her hand over her mouth surprised by herself. She felt her face was softer than usual. Feathery.